


Moats and Boats and Waterfalls, Alleyways and Payphone Calls

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: True Love or Something [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, Junk Food - Freeform, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: "My brother, in his infinite dumbassery, seems to have accidentally joined a cult.""Pidge!""Your mission because I'm making you accept it, is to help me get my idiot back.""Pidge, get out of our room!"
Matt Holt makes some questionable life choices and asks Pidge and the gang to come get him; road trip shenanigans ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE. Your lovely comments make my day and your support for this funky little series is what keeps me writing. 
> 
> I don't even know what this is, really. I was just like 'where's Matt?' and my brain was like 'here, have this ridiculous fic about road trips'.
> 
> I have never driven from New York to West Virginia, but according to google maps it take about eight hours.

**Moats and Boats and Waterfalls, Alleyways and Payphone Calls**

"My brother, in his infinite dumbassery, seems to have accidentally joined a cult."

            "Pidge!"

"Your mission because I'm making you accept it, is to help me get my idiot back."

"Pidge, get out of our room!"

"Oh please,” Pidge snorts, arms crossed over her chest, “Keith's fully dressed."

The fully-dressed lump in question groans into his pillow. "Keith had to work late and would like both of you to get out of his room so he can stay unconscious."

Lance, still focused on the real problem, personal space is a _thing, Pidge,_ yelps "Who just goes barges into other people's rooms?!"

"Did I mention my brother accidentally joined a cult?!” Pidge un-crosses her arms to wave her hands emphatically, “IT'S A VERY TRYING TIME FOR ME, LANCE."

Keith abruptly jolts upright, dislodging Lance’s hand, which had been stroking his hair soothingly (what? It’s soft, and Keith’s his boyfriend, Lance is allowed to be weird about the hair) "That's it, I'm awake, let's go."

"Babe..." Lance whines, because dammit, if Keith’s agreeing with Pidge’s crazy then in five minutes or less _Lance_ is going to start agreeing with Pidge’s crazy and that’s not a place he wants to be.

"Thank you, _Keith_ ,” Pidge says, smug, “you're a _good_ friend."

Keith just makes a vague noise of agreement and swings himself out of bed – dammit, Lance should have waited up for him, Keith slept in his boots again – and clomps away, presumably to the kitchen, where the coffee is.

"Babe, you might want to change clothes...or eat breakfast...or brush your teeth...and he's gone."

"That is a hyper-efficient man you've got there,” Pidge says admiringly.

"I'm pretty sure he's not human."

"See? I was right, alien."

“Ugh.”

            “Come on, up and at ‘em, Sunshine. We’re going on a field trip.”

            And with that Pidge trots away after Keith.

            Lance flops back into bed. He can be upright and mobile in a minute.

…

            “How do you accidentally join a cult?” Hunk asks as they shove their hastily-packed overnight bags (with the exception of Keith’s – apparently he has a fully stocked overnight bag ready to go at all times, which would be concerning, if he didn’t also have a fully-stocked overnight bag made for Lance too…which is kind of creepy but in a weirdly-endearing-why-are-you-like-this-let-me-hug-you sort of way) into the back of Hunk’s SUV.

            “Cataclysmic stupidity,” Pidge says tersely jabbing her fingers into her phone’s touch screen like it personally offended her, “He thought it was something else – what I’m not sure, but there were moon rocks involved. Either way, he called me this morning flipping out.” She holds up her phone and plays back the message.

            _“Um, Katie, I think accidentally joined a cult, can you, um, come get me? I did something really dumb. Okay, trace this call, bye now.”_

“I heard no mention of moon rocks,” Keith says skeptically.

            “We’ve been texting.”

            Lance gives up on being upright and functional and just leans his entire body weight on Keith. Keith puts up with it, absently patting his head because he’s nice like that.

            “So we’re driving to…”

            “West Virginia,” Pidge makes a face.

            “To collect your brother because he joined a cult…on accident…because of moon rocks?” Keith clarifies.

            “Isn’t your brother a genius or something?” Lance whines, “Why does this keep happening to him?”

            “Okay, to be fair, last time it wasn’t a cult, it was a pyramid scheme,” Hunk says evenly.

            “That he _fell for_. Doesn’t he work for some astrophysics think-tank?”

            “Yes,” Pidge sighs, “He’s led an unfortunately sheltered life. It makes him vulnerable to manipulation.”  

            “Nice guy, though,” Hunk, ever the optimist, interjects.

            Keith just stares at them all blankly. “What happened with the pyramid scheme?”

            “Pidge happened,” Hunk says cheerily.

            “I rained destruction upon them like god herself,” Pidge says gravely.

            “They turned themselves in,” Lance yawns, “After Pidge hacked them to internet-pieces. Hey, that was a good play on words!”

            “Yes, we’re all very proud of you,” Pidge says with a dry eye-roll, “Come on, boys, lets get this show on the _road_!”

            “Just what I wanted to do on my day off,” Lance sighs, flopping his head back onto Keith’s shoulder.

…

            Two hours on the road and Lance is half asleep, Hunk is leaning out the window like a dog because he gets carsick and the only cure is fresh air, and Pidge is rhythmically kicking the back of Keith’s seat, because he lost the rock-paper-scissors tournament and is stuck driving.

            “Has _your_ brother ever joined a cult?” Pidge asks absently, “Accidentally or otherwise?”

            “No,” Keith says and aggressively passes someone going half the speed limit.

            “See! Normal people don’t have these problems!” Pidge huffs, throwing her hands in the air dramatically, but Keith can see the hint of a fond smile ticking up the corners of her mouth in the rear-view mirror.

            “ _But_ ,” Keith hedges because this is just too fun to say, “he has been blown up, cage fought in Canada, and gone on a year-long vision quest to learn martial arts from anyone who would teach him…”

            Pidge’s kicking rhythm stops abruptly, “…is your brother Wolverine?”

            Keith snorts, “I don’t think so. He’s not cool enough.”

            “Dude, cage fighting in Canada.”

            “He went through a _phase_ when he was eighteen.” Keith probably shouldn’t talk about Shiro’s past like this, these guys seems pretty permanent – _Lance_ seems pretty permanent – and that means that they’re eventually gonna meet Shiro and realize that he’s basically a soccer mom in Captain America’s body with very strong feelings about Canadian customs officials.

            “I don’t know if I should be jealous, impressed, or really glad that’s not me,” Pidge says bluntly, “At least when my big brother gets in trouble I know I can probably beat up whatever’s bothering him.”

            “You don’t think I’d survive cage fighting in Canada?”

            “Who the hell even knows. Maybe you’re a mutant and your brother really is Wolverine.”

            “Wouldn’t that make Keith Sabertooth?” Hunk asks, head still mostly out the window.

            “Ugh,” Lance groans groggily from the backseat, “You guys are _nerds_.”

…

            They stop at a gas station and Lance looks on with utter horror as Keith rapidly fills a plastic basket with what is probably Pidge’s weight in junk food.

            “What in the hell…?”

            Keith looks at him, face adorably befuddled. “What?”

            “ _What is happening here?_ ”

            “What?” Keith asks again, dark eyebrows folding together in confusion and that’s just unacceptable, Keith cannot look adorable and confused when everything Lance thought he knew about the universe is a lie.

            “You’re… _you_! You eat carrot sticks! As a snack! With no ranch dressing! And here you have… a family sized bag of Fritos, four bowls of microwavable chili, three packages of Snoballs, _Twinkies,_ like, a _lot_ of Twinkies, _ramen noodles_ , and you’re eyeing the soft pretzel stand _right now, as we speak_! And don’t think I don’t see that box of poptarts.”

            Keith shrugs, still having the audacity to look perplexed, “I like junk food on road trips. Did you know if you dump a bowl of microwave chili in a bag of Fritos and pour that liquid cheese stuff they give you with soft pretzels that it’s basically nachos? It’s called a Frito pie.”

            Lance is still gaping at him.

            “I eat vegetables and cook real food at home because I have a kitchen there,” Keith explains, like this is somehow reasonable, “But I like road food. It’s basically what I grew up on.”

            “I have so many questions about your childhood,” Lance mutters, but can’t finish the thought because suddenly Pidge is at his elbow.

            “Lance, we need money.”

            “We?”

            “Me and Hunk. We’re buying every novelty flavor potato chip and trying them all. For science.”

            “Get something neutral to eat between chip flavors for a palate cleanse,” Keith advises like this is Master Chef: Road Junk Edition or something, “Otherwise they’ll all start tasting the same and you won’t get good data.”

            Lance gapes at him, “Don’t _encourage_ them.”

            Pidge grins, a manic gleam in her eye, “That is brilliant. Hunk! Grab a loaf of Wonder Bread! We need a palate cleanser!”

            “Why am I giving you cash for this?” Lance sighs as Pidge practically _bounces_ in front of him.

            “Because my credit card is paying for the gas.”

            “To rescue _your_ dumb genius brother.”

            “Think of it as a fun bonding trip.”

            Lance gives Pidge the money and sighs again as she scampers off. When she’s ducked into another aisle to argue the merits of Wonder Bread knockoffs, he turns to Keith, “You, mister, are a terrible influence on the children.”

            Keith shrugs, “Anything that keeps them off the streets,” he says flatly, a gleam of humor in his eyes and Lance sighs.

            “Okay, stop being cute. Go buy your terrible food. But don’t expect me to listen the next time you complain about my Starbucks habit!”

…

            “Lance! Turn signal!”

            “For the love of fuck, Pidge, quit backseat driving!”

            “I’m gonna be sick…”   
            “ _Hunk_!”

            “That’s it, I’m leaving. I would rather be a road stain than suffer this horror any longer.”

            “I’m dead, this is hell, isn’t it?”

            “Oh would you guys please _relax_!”

…

            Pidge finally berates Lance into pulling over (not really, it was actually the distinctly green tinge to Hunk’s face that drove Lance into this conveniently-placed rest stop) and they come to a stop in a nondescript little parking lot. They all tumble out, Hunk bolting for an empty parks service bathroom, Pidge hustling over to a picnic table where she plants herself decisively, furiously tapping away on her phone before she even sits down. Lance eases out of the driver’s seat, moving slow, refusing to acknowledge the way all his muscles seem to have locked up in the wake of his...exciting tenure as driver. Keith appears at his side because Keith can apparently fucking _apparate_ or something. His face is even paler than usual, his ever-present dark circles standing out like purple-grey smudges under his eyes. Lance stares at him dumbly as Keith reaches up and slowly plants one hand on each side of Lance’s head and slowly draws him forward until their foreheads are touching, until they are very much in each other’s space.

            “Lance,” he says, very serious, “I love you, but you are a terrible, terrible driver.”

            Lance opens his mouth to protest but Keith’s hands are moving to draw him into a hug, wrapping around his shoulders and rocking them slightly from side to side, whispering, “Shh, shh, just accept it,” as he does so.

            Lance stops trying to protest or struggle and just goes limp on Keith’s shoulder, “You’re a mean, terrible person.”

            “I know,” Keith says soothingly, “But you,” and his voice is still sweet and soft and soothing, “Scared the ever-loving _shit_ out of _everyone_ and we are all too young to die in a ten-car pileup on the way to the middle of _nowhere_ because Pidge’s brother joined a moon-rock cult.”

            “And beautiful.”

            “Hmm?”

            “You forgot we’re all too young and beautiful to die in a ten-car pileup.”

            “That too.”

            Lance knows that the hugging and the slight rocking back and forth are meant to be mildly patronizing and funny but he loves Keith and Keith-hugs are, relatively speaking, somewhat rare, so he decides to just lean into it, literally, and wraps his arms around his incredibly sarcastic boyfriend’s waist and tucks his face into the crook of Keith’s neck. Keith lets him, just tightening his hold and exhaling, a long gust of air that ruffles Lance’s hair.

            “I’m not that bad of a driver,” Lance mumbles into Keith’s shoulder.

            “No, you’re perfectly safe and sane when we’re at home. I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

            “Highways are hard. I grew up in a small town in Michigan. Not many busy highways there.”

            Keith squeezes him tight, “I grew up in a shack in the middle of the desert and I’m still a better driver than you.”

            “Rude and uncalled-for.”

            “We’ll work on the highways.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Sure. Next day off we can just drive around and I promise to only make fun of you a little bit when you spaz on the highways.”

            Lance chuckles, “You’re secretly a really sweet guy, Keith Kogane.”

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith snorts.

            “That would be your hot bod.”

            “How the hell do you say any of these lines with a straight face?”

            “Lots of practice and zero shame.”

…

            They end up back in the car eventually, after Hunk has brushed his teeth like a million times, Pidge has beaten her high score in Angry Birds and Keith and Lance have made out a bit against the side of the SUV. Hunk is driving now, and he drives like a _granny_ , but death no longer feels like and imminent possibility so there’s that. Hunk’s car sickness is much better when he’s behind the wheel so Keith cracks open the first tin of chili and, as Lance and Pidge watch in horrified fascination, concocts the first batch of Frito pie in a gallon Ziploc bag.

            “What? It’s good, I promise.”

            Pidge wrinkles her nose, “Don’t you heat it up first or something?”

            Kieht shrugs and zips the bag closed, giving it a few good shakes. “I like it cold.”

            Pidge shakes her head at Lance, “Your boytoy’s nuts, dude.”

            “Trust me, I know.”

…

            “How is this so _good_?”

            “I told you so,” Keith says, smug, as Lance and Pidge try to slap each others’ plastic forks out of the way to the last bite.

            “It’s like salty, crunchy, tomato-y, cheesy _crack_ ,” Pidge whines, crowing in triumph when she manages to wrangle her fork around Lance’s and impale the last meaty, cheesy bite.

            Keith grins, “I used to make these with my mom. We’d drive around a lot; we were always on the move for…for her work. And this was pretty…normal. For us. Like, wherever we were, there was always a gas station that had Fritos and fake cheese and shitty chili.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “it’s kind of dumb.”

            “No way,” Lance blurts out, “that’s really, really nice. That you guys had that.”

            Keith gives him and awkward smile and something in Lance’s chest melts a little bit.

            “Your mom was a junk food _genius_ ,” Pidge declares with a flourish of her plastic fork, “To Ms. Kogane!” she cries, holding the plastic silverware aloft dramatically.

            Keith beams, saluting with his own fork, “To mom!”

            Lance grins and follows suit. One of these days he’ll wrangle the rest of Keith’s past out of him but for now this is nice, this is good.

…

            They stop at another gas station a few hours later, just a quick bathroom break, then another hour and Pidge is reading something on her phone and shouting and flailing, “Pull over, diner, pull over, I see it, PULL OVER.”

            And then they’re pulling into the diner parking lot and a guy who looks a lot like Pidge but taller is standing up from a bench by a defunct payphone. “Katie!” he waves cheerfully at them as they pull in.

            Pidge is jumping out the car almost before it stops moving and runs over to punch her brother in the arm.

            “Ow, Katie – ”

            “What the fuck, dude?” she demands, “Who the hell accidentally joins a cult?!”

            “Well, they let me go?” he says with a shrug, looks up and sees the rest of them, “Hi guys, thanks for driving out her to get me. Apparently the cult doesn’t believe in Pluto? Or planets? I don’t know, they called astronomy ‘heretical’ and kicked me out. But they’re pretty nice guys so they dropped me off here.”

            Pidge punches him in the shoulder again.            

            “What’s that for?”

            “Any number of things,” she growls, but she drags her brother into a hug anyway.

            “Um, hey guys,” Matt says when it’s clear that Pidge isn’t letting him out of the strangle-hug any time soon, “I know Lance and Hunk, but who’s the new guy?”

            “Keith,” Keith waves, “I’m – ”

            “Ooh,” Matt’s eyes widen in recognition, “You’re that Keith. Cool. Nice to meet you. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

            Pidge pulls out of the hug to smack him in the arm again, “What in the hell about ‘Science Faith Order of the Galran Brotherhood’ said ‘this sounds like a legitimate organization I should totally check out’?”

            “I was curious?”

            “Like a cat.”

            Matt just shrugs.

            Hunk’s stomach gurgles and they all glance at the diner. “Who’s hungry?” Lance asks and they all shrug. Might as well live up the road trip life.

…

            Lance hooks his foot around Keith’s ankle under the table and Keith bumps shoulders with him.

            “You know you didn’t have to come,” Lance says in an undertone, “Pidge and Matt always manage to work this stuff out on their own.”

            “I wanted to help,” Keith says, shrugging, “And I know it was kind of ridiculous, but it was kind of fun? Reminded me of the good parts of being a kid.”

            Lance grins at him, “We’ll just have to go on another roadtrip again someday.”

            Keith’s smile is like the sun. “Sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'Home' by Edward Sharpe & Magnetic Zeroes 
> 
> I have an elaborate headcanon about Keith's childhood in this 'verse. It shall be revealed in later stories ~


End file.
